


Like asking a bat to describe the sunset

by Skadia



Series: To see the world as you do [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Communication Failure, Established Relationship, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, They are a bunch of idiots who have a hard time speaking to each other, also they talk way too much, mention of rape, mention of sex slavery, no one is fine, superdads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 07:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skadia/pseuds/Skadia
Summary: Understanding one another sometimes feels like being a bat asked to describe the sunset.Can you accept weakness (even your own) when you've been the best all your life?Can you ask your friends to carry your burden with you?Can you find something you agree on when each of you sees the world at a different angle?Can you see the sunset through another set of eyes ?





	Like asking a bat to describe the sunset

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for any mistake I made in this piece knowing that english is not my first language, feel free to point them so I can correct !  
> Also, I'm aware that my characterization is probably wanky.  
> Hope you'll enjoy it anyway !

Sex is a strange part of their relationship.  
Once, Bruce asked about it.  
« Do you feel ? » He was tracing patterns on Clark's back, on one of these rares moments they let themselves go just enough to stop caring about the world for a few hours. « You don't seem in pain when bullets hit you. Do you feel when I touch you ? »  
Clark had nodded. « I can... Make myself feel it. If I think about it. If I don't... I'm just... Aware of it ? What do humans feel ? »  
Bruce had shrugged. « Not quite sure I can relate to most humans when it comes to sensitivity. »  
« What do you feel then ? »  
Bruce could only show him, because describing a human feeling to a kryptonian was like asking a bat to describe a sunset. It could be done but rarely understood.  
Sex has always been a strange part of their relation. Maybe this is a reason why they work.  
Sort of. 

##

They are alone and in bed at the same time, which happens once every decade or so, and Bruce is currently giving a new definition of « topping from the bottom » when something in Clark's expression changes.  
This is a clear sign that something is wrong. And Bruce knows him well enough to know that whatever is wrong has nothing to do with whatever is happening in this room. He freezes.  
« Do we need to go ? » He asks.  
He knows Clark wants to lie. He can see it in the dim light, he can feel it under his tights. But being the loyal boyscout that he is, Clark nods.  
It takes an inhuman amount of will and restrain to tear themselves out of each other's embrace, but they're used to it. Will and restrain have been part of their lives for so long that this is actually harder to let go of it than to regain composure after their night of sex has been ruined. For the both of them, whatever Gotham will throw at them tonight, it can't be harder than getting in the right mindset to actually touch each other.  
« What did you hear ? » Bruce asks already putting on a shirt.  
« Nightwing is outnumbered. »  
It takes them less than a minute to get into the batcave. After all this time, Clark is still surprised by how fast Bruce can move.  
Tim's question hits them on their way to the wall of computer screen  
« Did you jack of at superspeed ? »  
Bruce frowns and Clark chuckles.  
« Did I say that out loud ? »  
« You did. Morron. » Blurts Damian from the other side of the console.  
Tim curses and Nightwing's voice comes from the speakers.  
« Why did you call them ? »  
« I did not ! » Yells both Tim and Damian.  
« I heard you needed help. Didn't mean to intrude... » Clark says, raising his voice for Nightwing to hear him.  
« Thank god … I might need a few extra … » He sounds distressed even with his voice modulator on. « I might need help. And NOT from any Robin. »  
« Why so secretive Nightwing? » Damian growls. He hates being pushed aside. He hates secrets.  
« For once, just for this one time, trust me and don't ask. »  
« We're on our way. » Batman says. It took him a ridiculously short time to put on his armor. He doesn't bother with the Batmobile, just grabs Superman's wrist and let him fly them to their destination.  
It is a quiet and beautiful neighborhood.  
Which is odd.  
Nightwing greets them by the open door of a small building which is even stranger and Batman can sense that something is wrong. Not just wrong. Something in Nightwing's face has just been torn apart. He's seen this happen a few times. Too many times.  
Batman did not think there was a bit of innocence left in his son to be destroyed. He was wrong.  
« There's too many of them and … And I … I can't let them... like that. »  
Something cold twist the vigilante's stomach as he follows Nightwing through a hallway where broken furniture shows that there were a fight here. A few impacts of bullets in the walls leading to a blind room that is empty of anything except for a bulb on the ceiling that cast a crude light on rows of cages.  
The cold feeling in his stomach turns into blind rage.  
There's too many of them. One would already be too many but he counts at least two dozen of them.  
Women.  
He would know what this is even if they were not mostly naked. Even if they were not collared, chained, and for some of them, passed out, each on a different cage, each with a colorful ballgag in their mouth and handcuffs on their wrists.  
Two of the cages are already open and the women in them seem terrified, curled up into balls, crying through their hands as far away as possible from the open doors.  
« They won't come out. » Nightwing says.  
It's a flash of red and heat. Then a smell of melted metal and cold air as Superman opens every cage at light speed . Most of the captives gasp through their gags, try to hide from the laser eyes but the kryptonian is already gone. Batman extends a hand to the girl closer to him. She closes her eyes and shakes her head.  
She can't be older than Tim and the rage inside him turns colder than Superman's breath.  
« Where are they ? » He asks through gritted teeth while rummaging in his utility belt.  
« Upstairs. First room on the left. Took care of them. » Nightwing answers. He's trying to be stern. « It was just a lead on concealment of stolen electronics... I did not... »  
« You did not investigate. » Batman says coldly. He presses a capsule in his hand and hands a gaz mask to Nightwing while the gaz spreads through the room. It take a few minutes to get on every woman but one by one, they fall asleep.  
« I'm not sorry. » Nightwing says as Superman comes back, a big pile of sheets in his arms. « I won't apologize for finding this. And I won't apologize for what I did to the guys. » He says again, this time turning toward Superman.  
« They're breathing. » The alien says. « Which is probably more than they deserve. » He drops the fabric on the floor and quickly goes to work on the multiple chains and bounds that restrain the women, now asleep.  
« Did you use the good stuff ? »  
Batman nods. It's out of place to talk about the good stuff here. This is not a term for Batman and Superman rescuing women from pimps. This is a term for Bruce and Clark. This is how they talk about the pills that Bruce pretend he doesn't take to sleep and that Clarks pretends that they are prescription sleeping pills. Bruce knows they're not. He knows that Clark gets them from Red Hood. And they both pretend it doesn't happen because the good stuff is the only way Bruce can sleep without nightmares sometimes.  
It's a joke and a secret. It's a little bit of their intimacy that gets thrown away in a room full of abused women that Batman put to sleep because they were too afraid to let them free them.  
He feels sick as he works, wrapping the sleeping bodies in white sheets, trying damn hard not to look at their faces, not to register every single detail he can to remember them. And trying even harder not to run upstairs and do something he might regret one day.  
« Police is on the way. » Superman says as they lay the last sleeping victim on the floor away from the cages.  
« How long ? » Nightwing asks.  
« Five minute ? Maybe eight if they underestimated the … situation. »  
Nightwing nods and goes back to the hallway. Part of Batman hopes that he's going to clean up his mess and not let any evidence linking him to this scene. Gordon will guess it anyway. But it's better if they don't get more involved than they already are.  
Sometimes, even the Batman doesn't do the best choice he thinks as he climbs up the stairs. Sure enough there is four unconscious guys in the room Nightwing pointed to him. And one guy that blinks when he switches the light on. Batman feels nothing except rage and this sensation that everything in here is wrong, rotten, that nothing is worth fighting for because it would be useless.  
There will always be another criminal. Another victim.  
Whatever he does, it doesn't change anything and the names of the people he failed to save gets longer and longer. His guilt is heavier each day.  
Guilty of not knowing.  
Twenty six women missing, some of them for a very long time as far as their scars can tell. And he didn't know.  
Twenty six women going through hell, and all he could do was drugging them.  
« Please, I didn't do anything ! »  
His attention goes back to the only guy who's not unconscious. He's pale, sweaty, bound tightly to a radiator and already bruised from his fight with Nightwing. Not too much, not enough for his taste. He crouches down to be eye level with the pimp.  
« Please, I never hurt them! I swear ! » The guy cries now, squirming desperately to get rid of his handcuffs.  
« Never ? » Batman asks.  
« Never, I swear ! »  
« But you're here. » The vigilante says again, wrapping a hand around the guy's throat. « You knew, and you did nothing. »  
« I had no choice … Please ! »  
The first punch is carefully aimed to break his nose. It does not calm the rage in Batman's chest. Not one bit. So he hits again. And again. And again. Black is a convenient color, the blood only shimmers on it.  
He hits the pimp again, pretty sure he heard the sharp sound of a bone breaking. And this brings a smirk on his face and a little relief on his mind.  
He hits and he hits for what seems ages and a few seconds at the same time until a voice reach through his haze of fury.  
« Batman Stop ! STOP ! »  
The hand that stops him is not strong enough to really compel him. Nightwing doesn't even try to really make him back down, but his grip on Batman's arm is firm.  
«Stop. » He says again, softer this time. « We need to go. »  
It takes an inhuman amount of will for him to stand on his feet and leave the room then the building, to take the grapnel and ascend to the roof.  
It takes an inhuman amount of restrain not to go back and reduce the rest of them to a bloody pulp before the police arrives.  
But it takes nothing to squeeze Nightwing's shoulder and nod. «  Thank you. »  
« I should have done my research. » Nightwing says, looking down to the flashing lights under them.  
« You handled it. Without you, these women would still be ... »  
« Don't tell the others. » Nightwing cuts him. « I'd give everything to wipe these memories from my brain. I did not want them to see that. »  
Batman nods.  
« They will find out you know. If they don't already have. »  
« Would it keep you from trying to protect them ? »  
« No. »  
« Yeah, me neither. » Nigthwing says. And with that, he's gone, jumping to the next roof then another until he's not even a shadow in the city skyline. 

##  
«They were sex slaves. » Damian says like it's a known fact. Tim came to the same conclusion and nods.  
« What made you so sure of that ? » He asks anyway.  
« Prostitutes usually have some form of clothing. »  
Tim nods again.  
This should feel wrong and it actually does. But not as much as it should.It should feel weirder to see Damian browsing through dozens of naked bodies and making screen captures and close ups. But the kid's face is as frowny as usual like he's bored.  
« Why did they cut us off this one ? Did they really think we would not find out ? » Damian asks again, angry this time.  
« I think they wanted to protect us a little. At least Dick did. »  
« Unlike you Drake, I don't need protection. »  
« Good for you. » Tim sighs. «  But that's what family does, trying to protect its members. »  
« You're not my family. »  
« Ouch. » Tim says his voice as cold as it can be. « I wonder how I'll survive this infamy. »  
« Don't mock me Drake. »  
Tim rolls his eyes and goes back to his screen, he's a little too tired to pick fights with Damian anyway. Batman and Nightwing cut the transmission from their suits and he did not try to hack into it. He's happy he did, it bought him an hour without having to look at the pictures of women being reduced to scared animals. Some part of him is glad that Dick and Bruce tried to preserve them, even if they had to know it would take him eight minutes top to connect to the police servers and know what they've been hiding.  
Damian on the other hand hates not being part of the action. But he's fourteen … There's something deeply wrong in the fact that a teenager this young knows what a sex slave is an can so easily identify one. Tim doesn't want to know how Damian learned that.  
Tim learned that from the internet as he was looking for stuff on human trafficking. He has the numbers memorized since then because at the time, he did not want to believe them.  
One woman out of four experience sexual abuse during her life.  
Most of them are so accustomed to it that they actually don't think harassment or pressure to have sex, is abuse.  
In warzones, one hundred percent of women are raped at least once in their life. Half of them killed afterward.  
He remembers asking Selina Kyle about these numbers and her nodding slowly.  
« One thing nobody talks about, Tim, is that almost every woman knows the guy who will hurt her. It's almost never some bandit or some junkie in a dark alley. It's almost always one of our friends, because they are the ones we trust, so they are the ones who have the easiest way to get to us. »  
« Is that why you trust no one ? »  
« No. It's why I have a back up plan in case the ones I trust betray me. I've learned it from Batman actually. »  
« Did he betray you ? »  
She had smiled and kissed him on the cheek. She smelled like jasmine that day.  
« That is none of your business. But somehow, we all betray each other in the end. And most people can forgive when it's not meant to hurt you. »  
« Can you ? »  
« I try. »  
It took Tim a few years of being Robin to really admit how bad the world is. As long as it was just numbers, it was not real enough. Then came the fights and people actively trying to kill him. Then came the little bit of trust, ripped from him one betrayal at a time and Bruce once said it was part of growing up.  
Did Damian ever grow up since he never had a childhood in the first place ? How can you grow when everything is taken from you even before you have memories of them ?  
Maybe that's how he can stay that impassible in front of the horrors he's browsing through when Tim feels like throwing up. Maybe he never had the possibility to grow empathy for other human beings ?  
«You look even more stupid than you usually do Drake. »  
« And you're as much of a pain in the ass as you usually are. »  
« Bad choice of words. » Damian says softly, turning back to his screen, closing a file.  
And for half a second, Tim sees something in his brother's feature that looks like sadness.  
Maybe Damian learned something about empathy after all. 

##  
Batman knows that Superman is not taking him to the Batcave.  
Its an awkward way of transportation, being pulled in the air by Superman and seing the city flashes under your feet. Thankfully, with superspeed, the trips are usually short. Doesn't mean Batman appreciate them.  
And this time, they're going out of the city, into some fields, away from everyone and Batman is tempted to reactivate his comlink. But Superman lands him on the ground sooner than he expects and with more gentleness than Batman would like.  
« Where are we ? »  
« Few miles away from everything. » The alien says. « You need to let it out. »  
« Let what out ? » Batman asks. But Superman doesn't answer, they both know. « I'm fine. »  
« You're a very bad judge of your own well being. »  
« What am I supposed to do ? Scream ? Cry ? Punch you like I punched this guys back there ? »  
« Whatever feels right. I can take it. »  
For a moment, neither of them move. Superman just looks at him, standing still in a field without even the moonlight to emphasize how not dramatic he's trying to be. This is ridiculous and for a moment, Batman considers calling up the Batplane.  
He stares at Superman and before he knows it, his fist is in the air, aiming for the chest, his feet are in motion, trying to take his friend down and for a few seconds, Superman doesn't react. Then it's a blur of move, of Batman hitting, again and again, like his body is disconnected from his soul, like he's on autopilot and Superman dodges sometimes but mostly, he takes the hits, the blows, the cuts and whatever Batman throws at him.  
He sees when the anger takes the better part of Batman, he can feel it in the punches, in the way he moves. There's no hesitation, no fear, nothing except a rage that needs to express itself.  
He sees when the rages gives way to guilt and sadness because the thrusts are less violent, aiming more for his legs, trying more to make Superman back down than hurt him.  
He sees when the exhaustion comes, and when Batman his past his own breaking point. He sees when the pain starts to cut through the armor and the adrenaline, but he lets Batman fight longer.  
And he's here when the Bat collapses on the ground, kneeling, panting heavily, watching his gloved fists without seeing them, delirious from grief and wrath.  
He's here to remove the cowl and take Batman's face in his hands, carefully, like he would with a wounded bat.  
« How do you feel ? »  
« Slightly better. » Bruce mutters. And Superman knows he's not saying anything more. So he nods and slowly press his forehead against Batman's. They stay like that for what feels longer than they should but moving seems wrong. They end up sitting side by side on the grass after hours of slow moves like they're afraid something will break if one of them decide to just shift away from the other. The sun is rising and the world is turning grey.  
Superman closes his eyes, let the first ray of light touch his skin and smile.  
« What do you feel ? » Batman asks. « When you're in the sun ? »  
«Superman doesn't have an answer to that. The same way he doesn't have an answer to describe tastes or colors. He feels it, he can't word it.  
« It makes me uncomfortable. » Batman says again. «The suit is too hot, it burn in some places, it itches in some others and I probably look like a clown who's been drowned in black paint. »  
Superman smiles at that because it's true somehow.  
« It makes me feel good. » He says. « Like the second sip of water when you're thirsty. Not the first. The first feels like a life savior. The second sip, you appreciate it for what it is. You taste it, you enjoy it and you feel good because you're taking care of one of your basic needs. It makes me feel whole, and happy. »  
« How can you be happy after what we've seen tonight ? »  
« Because life goes on. »  
Batman grumbles something that's probably disrespectful but Superman doesn't take offense.  
« Being in the sun makes me see it. It's a never ending fight. Whatever we do, there will always be bad people, and terrorists, and sociopaths... but whatever we see, there will always be people who are not … like that. Its like closing the door of a very dark room and realizing that there is something better outside that you just forgot for a moment.There is something else apart from the nightmares you live in Batman. »  
« I'm part of the nightmares. »  
« Not part of mine. »  
« I'm not... Bats don't like the sun for a reason, they are not supposed to live in the sun, their eyes can't bear it. And this wonderful land you seem to live on... it's not mine. There's no way for me to close that door. »  
« Is there a way for me to let the sun in, just a little ? Without hurting the bats ? »  
Bruce looks at him. It's Bruce now, wearing Batman's armor.  
« I think you just did. »  
He squints and Superman, or Clark, who knows ? ( Who cares ? ) kisses him on the lips. 

##  
He has climbed in and out of this window enough time to know how to open it if needed. But Barbara sleeps with the window ajar because she gets too hot under the covers at night.  
Nightwing knocks on the glass, perched on the tiny rim of the window, waiting for her to wake up, trying not to scare her.  
He could have call, but his steps led him here before he had the idea and now she's switching the light and opening the window with an annoyed grunt ready to patch him up if needed. She always is, always take care of them, always have.  
« I hope you brought coffee. » She yawns as he step into her room.  
« Sorry, spilled it on my way. » He flashes her a smile that's too shaky, too unsure not to warn her that something is wrong. He sits on the carpeted floor, his back to the wall and she sits on her bed, waiting for him to talk. His face hurt where he got punched earlier and removing the mask only let sweat fall into his eyes. He wipes them with a gloved hand that spreads little specks of dried blood on his cheek.  
He tells her. He tells her everything and it's good to have it out of his chest. He feels hollow and sad and powerless, but it's good to talk, to have someone who listen and doesn't judge.  
« How could so many women go missing and no one noticed ? There was no record of anyone being researched, nothing... » he says finally. « How could it happen and none of us knew ? »  
« Because no one cares. » Barbara says.  
For the first time tonight, he looks at her, really sees her. Not only her bedhead, not the shaggy shirt and short she sleeps in, not the faint reflection of her in the batarang she hides under her pillow, but her. Barbara Gordon. The woman he once loved and probably will always have in his heart. His friend. His partner in crime and in resolving crime. Her.  
And she is hurt. And angry.  
« What do you mean ? I care ! We care ! Their families... »  
« They don't have a family. » She says sternly. « Or else someone would have looked for them. »  
« How can people live... so alone ? »  
It feels almost worse that what he saw tonight. It might explain how some of these women got into ...this. He doesn't want to put a name on it. It would be too real and the only thing he wants now is to drown his memories under the shower and let it be someone else's problem.  
« No one cares when a woman says she's afraid of someone. No one believes us, no one listen to us because women get scared, that's what they do. »  
« They don't ! » He says right back.  
« Of course they don't. But that's what men are taught. That's why we have to be twice as smart, twice as brve and twice as resilient to have our voices heard. Because otherwise, the first thing on anyone's mind is that we're over reacting, and whatever danger a woman might be in, it will be swiped under the rug because it can't be that bad, can't it ? »  
He frowns, doesn't really understand what she's trying to say.  
« You think no one listened to them when they needed help ? »  
« I think no one wanted to even believe they really needed help. »  
They stay in silence for a few minutes.  
« So no one looked for them. »  
« No one cared. It's the thing Nightwing, we're raised to bypass women's need for safety because no one tells us that they deserve respect as human being. »  
« My parents taught me that ! And Batman did too ! »  
Barbara raises her eyebrows ans snorts.  
« And what were their exact words ? »  
He tires to remember the exact words to prove her wrong. It's hard getting past the simple feeling that women must be respected and cared for, because this is a part of him now. What were the exact words Bruce once used years ago ?  
« He said : « Take care of the women you encounter as you would want someone to take care of your mother. » And I live by it Babs, I swear I do. »  
She looks sad when she nods.  
« I know you do. And it's the worst part of all. I know you care and that you're a good person, one of the best person I've ever met. And you still don't understand that you're part of the problem. »  
« What ? »  
He's never been more insulted in his life. She never hurt him like that, not when she was mad at him for good reasons, not when she took her anger on him on various occasions. She was never that cold and distant to him and he doesn't know what he did wrong.  
« The problem is that even good guys like you, even those who were raised right see women as someone else's property. You don't respect women because they're human being, you respect them because they might be important for another man. You respect them because they might be mothers, lovers, daughters... not because they exist. »  
He opens his mouth to say something, to try once again to prove her wrong, but he has no word... which desn't happen very often.  
« If even you can't grasp the concept that we need safety, how do you think any asshole who walks these streets treats the women in their life ? Do you think that they really care ? »  
« I care ! » He protest. «  I care for you babs. »  
« I know » She says. This time, she gets up from her bed and walks to the window, standing next to him. « I know you care because you once loved me and that you see me as your equal. And I know you would never purposely hurt a woman who did not try to kill you before. » She smiles and for one tiny second he can hope that she's not angry.  
If he was stupid and did not know her he might hope that.  
But he knows when she's about to hit as hard as she can, physically and mentally.  
« And still, it was no problem to you to climb through my window, at 3 in the morning to complain about how bad YOU feel now that you saw some women being abused. It never occurred to you how bad that would make Me feel, as a woman, and after what the Joker did to me. »  
She lowers her eyes on him and Nightwing never felt so bad in his life.  
« I'm sorry babs I … I didn't think... »  
« Yeah. You didn't think. » She interrupts. « That's the whole problem Nightwing. »  
He jumps on his feet and it takes everything he has in him not to take a step in her direction, not to take her in his arms and shelter her from everything in the world... including himself. He stands still, miserable and ashamed.  
« You wanted to know how it was possible for so many women to disappear without anyone noticing ? You have your answer. No one fucking cares. »  
It's like he fell from a rooftop and the impact is hurting like hell. It's like she's still above him, ready to press another trigger and finish him for good. It's like he can never be forgiven for being that selfish. Selfish enough not to think that, indeed, talking to her about cases of rape and abuse might trigger her worst memories.  
« I'm sorry. » He says, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.  
« I bet you are. Now get out of my house. » She points at the window, doesn't blink when he climbs it and her voice follow him into the dark street.  
« Next time you climb up my window might be the next time you have ten digits. Just so you know. »  
He think he deserves the threat. 

##  
They've seen and fought countless horrors but it's still a clear sign of the apocalypse when Tim and Damian are quietly together in the kitchen under Alfred attentive glare.  
And tonight, they're sipping what Clark identifies as hot cocoa only by the smell of it.  
Apart from the fact that it's now five in the morning and none of them has slept yet, this seems like an almost normal brother bonding time which is stranger than a lot of things Clark encountered this year. But maybe not stranger than Bruce, coming back from his room in a pair of blue sweatpants and distressed grey t shirt and sitting next to his sons, asking for a hot beverage himself.  
In the spare room, Clark takes an unusually long time to change too, just to give himself time to wrap his mind around the fact that Bruce Wayne, sometimes, is a … dad.  
« I hate them. » A voice says behind his back.  
He turns to find Damian looking at him from the hallway.  
« Who ? »  
« These women you rescued tonight. They're so weak... I hate them. » Damian spits the words like he hopes they could hurt the victims, or hurt himself, Clark can't tell. But he can sit on the bed and extends a hand toward the young Robin, inviting him to talk a little more.  
« I hate weakness. » Damian says again. He sits next to Clark, frowning as usual, not looking at him. « Why didn't they put n a fight ? How could they let themselves be reduced to that ? »  
« Maybe they fought. »Clark says softly. « Maybe they had the fight taken away from them. Maybe they … stopped when they lost hope. »  
« I've been taught to never stop ! You never give up on a fight. Not 'till you're dead ! »He's clenching his fists and trembling now and Clark pretends not to notice.  
« But you've been taught that you could fight. That you had this power. Some people never realize it's an option. »  
« Then they are fools who deserves what happens to them. »  
Clark thinks about it for a moment. He thinks Damian is wrong, but he can understand why the kid reacts like this. Why he needs so much to think that people deserve what happens to them. It means that he can fight against the odds. It means that he deserves when something good happens to him. It means the world makes sense.  
But the world often doesn't make any sense and that's a part that Clark still has trouble accepting. The world is often just plain wrong and ugly.  
Is it something you're supposed to say to a teenager ?  
« Let's say the deserve it, does it mean that it's a good thing ? »  
« No. »Damian says sternly. « That's why we're here, because anyway, human trafficking or else is not okay. But I don't feel sorry for the victims . They should have put on a fight. My mom would have ! »  
Clark smiles.  
« My mom would have killed them all. »  
Clark nods.  
« May I confess something to you Damian ? » The kid stares at him with a blank face that Clark takes as a yes. « I think killing them would make this world a better place. »  
« Why don't we ? I know that Father would say that there is a line not to cross, that there is a justice for a reason but none of these men will feel remorse for what they did ! What's the point in letting them live if they don't actually feel bad and eventually will do it again ? »  
Clark sighs.  
« Because if we take the right to decide who can live and who should die, we're just like them. »  
« I don't mind. »  
« I think you do. »  
They stare at each other for a few seconds. Damian seems close to jump on Clark's throat, as useless as it could be but he slowly lowers his eyes and Clark can only imagine how hard this must be for him.  
« You're the most skilled Robin who ever wore the suit. » Clark says. He puts a hand on Damian's shoulder. « I'm quoting your father here. The most skilled, the most fearless, the better trained. And most of it, you're the one who tries the hardest to make the good choice. »  
« I feel like a disappointment most of the time though . » Damian grunts.  
« And that's what makes you hustle twice as hard as Dick ever did. You came a long way from the Assassin's league Damian. And you chose to do it. You chose not to kill criminals, to follow into your father's footsteps. And that's what makes me think that you do, actually care about this line we do not cross. You care about making the best choice. You care a lot. And that's one reason that makes you so strong. »  
« I have no compassion. » Damian says sternly. « I've been trained to have none. »  
« I feel no compassion toward the victims either. »  
Damian seems puzzled for a split second. It's the first time Clark saw him so unsure of something, so unsettled. Somewhere, deep down under the assassin and the Robin, there is a human being with a lot of questions to ask, and Clark says a silent prayer to Rao to have some of the answers.  
« It's hard to feel... to understand something like weakness when we're us. » Clark says again, leaning a little toward Damian. « No one can hurt me. And you've been trained to hurt people long before they even know you're here. No one can takes us by surprise. Almost no one can best us.... we've grown that way. Trying to understand a victim's mindset is like... It would be like asking us to describe the sunset to a bat... the bat can't understand because we literally don't see the world the same way...and we can't understand her either. It doesn't mean we're bad people... just that some things are beyond our comprehension. Like weakness, like why people give up the fight... or don't even fight... Do I make sense ? »  
Damian nods slowly then raises his eyes with a dark grin.  
« You're cheesy and annoying. » He says. « But... » This time it's him who lean a little toward Clark until their shoulders touch. « Sometimes, it's nice to have someone to talk to. »  
And Clark wraps his arms around the boy, trying his best not to squeeze him too hard because no compliment will ever top this one, and he's never felt so honored in his life.  
And Damian squeezes him too. A part of him wants Superman to feel his grasp, how strong he his. And another part of him makes him close his eyes, and bury his face in the crook of Clark's shoulder for a little longer than necessary.  
This might never happen again but for the duration of this hug, he doesn't miss his mother. Not as much at least.  
But he doesn't say a word about it. Just squeezes Clark a little harder, a little longer. 

##  
Alfred, always the discreet gentleman, left the kitchen after Damian went upstairs following Clark. Tim suspects him of having super hearing because he knows that the butler will be back at the exact second he might need a refill of hot cocoa despite the fact that he can perfectly make it himself. Or Alfred bugged the entire manor which is a possibility.  
He tries not to let his imagination run too wild because it always leads him on a dark path of paranoia and self depreciation when he's exhausted like tonight. Well this early morning. Which is something that happens probably way too often but that is also a subject he tries not to think about.  
Bruce seems already half dead and Tim can only feel sorry for him knowing that there's a board council scheduled in a few hours that he can't miss. Well actually, he can, he's the boss and nobody really expects Bruce Wayne to be a responsible adult for five days in a row.  
Maybe some people do. That would be a good way to separate smart people from dumbasses...  
But most of the world still probably wonders how and mostly why he adopted so many children. Dick... well that was obvious. Jason ? Himself ? Cass ? They know who Bruce is. What a great father he is. But the world only sees Bruce Wayne and even if most people don't really know about all the adoptive kids... Tim is used to eyebrows raising when Bruce introduces him as his son. Now, he also got used to Damian loudly sighing in the background « Adoptive son ! ». Because for him it probably really makes a difference.  
It's a difference.  
Bruce is more of a father for Tim than his own ever was. He's the one who tries to ground him sometimes, the one who pays his school, his clothes, the one who puts him to bed when he's hurt or sick, the one who's here.  
And time wonders sometimes, how hard it can be for Bruce, knowing that he never got the chance to really be Damian's dad. Damian doesn't really care about traditional parents role models. If needed, he could build his own multi million company in a few years. He doesn't need anyone to tuck him to bed, and being taken care of seems like a personal insult for him.  
What he respects and craves is loyalty, blood ties, honor. A father figure he can learn from and respect. Bruce got that part covered. But whatever the Assassin's league did to Damian, it deprived him of a whole part of his childhood, the part that makes moments like drinking hot cocoa with his father something enjoyable, something to look forward to or a memory to cherish.  
« I miss my parents. » Tim blurts.  
It's like Bruce got awaken by a siren. He jerks his head away from his hands and blink twice, trying to focus on Tim before slowly standing up, fetching the empty mugs to put them in the sink. He's back to Tim when he answers.  
« I miss mine too. »  
##

Jason knows he has some questions to answer to and it's slightly better not to let Dick, or Nightwing, or Batman come into his territory to ask them.  
He parks his motorcycle on the front driveway with a clear disrespect for the perfectly neat gravel that's probably the work of someone with an OCD syndrom that will be upset. Not that he cares.  
Alfred opens the door before he even gets his helmet off.  
« Good morning master Jason. »  
Jason rolls his eyes.  
« Good morning Alfred. May I suggest you drop the « sir » and the « master » for a few days ? I've heard it's a poor choice of words right now. »  
« As you wish master Jason. » The butler answers with no trace of a smile on his stern face, he disappears on the shadow of the door to let him in. « Bruce and Tim are in the kitchen. And Dick is on his way... He mentioned something about him wanting to chop off your genitals and feed them to Titus. »  
« Does Bruce know ? »  
Alfred purses his lips and doesn't answer. That's how Jason knows he's in trouble. That and the fact that it's clear now that he's the only one who's still called « master » by the butler. Which means he knows too and he's angry at him.  
Jason has a list of the worst thing that could happen to him.  
Dying is down to the seventh or eighth place.  
Disappointing Batman is number one.  
Disappointing Alfred is number zero. Zero like the exact number of times you should be allowed to disappoint him during your lifespan. Or second lifespan.  
He doesn't make it into the kitchen. Dick jumps on him in the hallway, too fast and too silent for Jason to dodge the first punch.  
« THAT » Dick yells « Is for giving me false intel. » He punches again but this time Jason stops him and a dark grin spreads on his brother's face. There's a slight shift in his posture one second before Dick starts to fiGHt again, and this time, it's not only about anger, he's really determined to hurt Jason.  
Truth be told, in his place, Jason would react the same way. He avoids as many hits as he can, not trying to fight back as Dick keeps counting his mistakes.  
« That's for setting me up. »  
a vicious heel in Jason's stomach takes him dowN as pain radiates through all his chest.  
« That's for endangering us ! »  
He grabs Jason by the lapel of his jacket, perfectly aware now that his brother won't fight back. His fist is clenched, aiming for the face.  
« And that one is for not being here when I needed you ! »  
This hurts more than physically and it's the only thing that makes Jason stand up. By now, they're not alone anymore. Damian and Clark are up the stairs, the alien has a hand on Damian's shoulder as if he's preventing him to join the fight. Tim and Bruce are behind Dick, confusion and disapproval on their faces.  
« Oh come on Dickie ! You can handle five pimps and a few prostitutes ! »  
Dick's jaw clenches and he's about to say something but it's Damian who speaks with his unmistakable tone of annoyance.  
« They were not prostitutes. Just women forced into sex slavery. »  
« How the fuck do you know that ? » Jason asks frowning. « Nah, strike that, I don't want to know how you of all kids know that ! »  
«Does everyone in this family think I'm unintelligent ? »  
« Yeup ! » Comes Tim's reply at the same time as the «  of course not ! » coming from Alfred, Bruce and Clark. It makes Jason smile which owns him a sharp slap on the back of his head.  
« I'm not done with you Jay ! » Dick grumbles.  
« I think you are. »His face hurt when he speaks, but he came here to give answers and he earned the right to speak his mind now. « Now tell me, Would you have wanted me in here ? »  
« I needed to know what mess I was going into ! This was supposed to be nerds trafficking electronics components ! Not human trafficking ! I needed the back up and you set me up into something so big I got the kids involved ! »  
« Said kids have fought the greatest villains ever and you're worrying about them seing a bunch of hookers ? You're cute Dick ! »  
« They were not ... »  
« Damian shut it ! » Dick yells. « That's not the point ! You tricked me into doing your dirty work and I'm not a tool for you to play with ! »  
« Don't try to make me feel bad about it ! » Jason spits back. « I did the best I could ! I could have gone in there and killed all five of them. That was the plan ! For days ! »  
The grip on hIs jacket loosen a little.  
« I tried to talk myself out of this plan for days asking myself what would batman do ? He would let the justice decide ! And as stupid I think it is, as useless I think it is I tried to do the right thing ! So I gave you the intel knowing that YOU would do the right thing ! I would have killed them all ! »  
Dicks voice is soft when he speaks again.  
« You could have just told me everything. »  
« I knew you wouldn't get anyone but yourself involved if you believed you could handle it alone. » Jason looks at Damian trying to look apologetic. « I wanted to protect you as much as possible . » He looks back at dick. « If I told you everything, they would be part of the operation. Even without you wanting them here in the first place. »  
« Thanks for the confidence ! » Tim says.  
« You're a noisy little brat and Damian is even worse ! And you both know I'm right ! »  
« I'm not little ! » Says Damian. No one can decide if he's trying to be funny or genuinely bothered by the epithet.  
« This was a reckless and dangerous plan. » Says Bruce quietly. « Let go of him Dick. You've done enough for tonight. »  
Somewhere in the park, birds start to sing and that's how they realize how quiet the manor is now that the cries and the fight have stopped.  
« We all need some rest. » Alfred says. « Jason, I put your helmet in your room. »  
Jason smiles and nod a the butler.  
« We'll have to talk about it. » Dick says.  
« You never shut up anyway. »  
There's a chuckle that might come from Clark and Jason turns back to Damian, smiling. « Come on Killing bird, it's past your bedtime ! »  
« I'm the son of batman ! My bedtime is never ! » Damian yells raising his arms in the air for Jason to pick him up like he's five. It sounds like a private joke between them and Jason smiles, taking the youngest Robin into his arms.  
« Yes but I died first so that makes me the boss of you ! »  
« Not fair ! »  
« Life isn't fair ! »  
They climb up the stairs bickering and leave an awkward silence behind them.  
« Can someone explain to me what just happened ? » Tim asks.  
« I'm not putting them on patrol together ever again. That's what happened. » Bruce answers.  
Clark doesn't say anything but he distinctly hears the ruffle of the sheets on Damian's bed and a soft murmur coming from his room.  
« Thanks. Trying to protect us was … generous. »  
« You're welcome killing bird. »  
##

Bruce has a headache and wanted nothing more this morning than to skip or even cancel the meeting he's currently sitting in.  
But being the one in charge means he has to endure two hours of what seems pointless powerpoint presentations and profit simulation. And there is one of these meetings every damn week of the year because Wayne enterprise is an octopus who has a branch in everything including stuff Bruce knows nothing about ( what the hell is an internet privacy insurance anyway ? Nothing on the internet stays private for long. Do people really need to pay to be told that ? ).  
« Last topic is the Chinese market. »  
« NO » Bruce says. He actually got out of bed this morning ( and out of two very warm, very comfy arms. Focus Bruce!) especially to put his veto on this particular topic knowing that Damian would give him hell for selling beauty products in china. Something about tests on animals being mandatory there. He had to sit through a damn meeting about mascara and whatever a highlighter is ( probably not the sharpie he uses to underline important stuff on his reports) because of his son cruelty free lifestyle. ( Which is funny coming from Damian.) Bruce hopes he knows what he does for him.  
No, strike that, he'll make sure his son never forgets what he had to do for him today ! And that includes testing golden glitter ! (This stuff gets stuck everywhere.)  
« But the Chinese market is the biggest in the world, not only in terms of population but the amount of... »  
« I said no. » Bruce says sternly. « My name will no longer be associated with useless tests on animals. I don't care how much this will cost us. » (as long as it buys me a little peace because right now, I can't take any more drama coming from the boys) He makes a mental note to ask for a memo about every subsidiary of the company that tests on bunnies and cats and schedule another board meeting to change that.  
Selina would say that it's a small, long overdue step.  
His head aches so much he can't think clearly but thankfully the meeting is now over and he can gulp a few painkillers before turning his phone on again. It immediately starts beeping. Incoming call from Selina.  
This woman must be able to read minds.  
« Don't go on patrol tonight. »  
« Well, hello to you too miss Kyle. »  
« I'm serious Bruce, don't go out tonight. »  
He sits, tries to will his headache away, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers of his free hand.  
« Any particular reason for me being grounded ? » He smiles even if she can't see him (she probably can actually. No one will make him believe it's a coincidence if she called at the only time he would pick up the phone.) « Have I been a bad boy ? »  
« You've been quite good actually. I saw the news and Barbara told me. »  
« How is she ? »  
« Resilient as always. » There's a pause. « We're taking the case from now on. »  
« and who is that «  we » ? »  
« Me. Her. Any woman who feels concerned by their own safety. »  
« And as a man I'm not invited to the party. »  
« indeed. » Another pause. When she speaks again, her voice is raspier, quiet and cold. « I want women to know, to be told for once, that they can take back the power in their life. And Barbara does too. »  
It makes sense. Bruce doesn't like it, but it makes sense.  
« Can't we help ? »  
« We don't need help. »

##  
« Do you think he will step back ? » Barbara asks.  
She's curled on the couch, nursing a cup of coffee that Selina brought her after a white night.  
« if he doesn't that will just make one more person to beat up tonight. »  
The coffee table disappears under sheets of paper and post it notes, sign of a productive morning when someone knocks on the door. There's a bouquet of flowers and a very apologetic Dick behind it.  
« Flowers and apologies ? That's really the best you can do Grayson? » Barbara says, trying to hide a smile ?  
« I also got you a gift card from this Thai restaurant that you like. »   
Selina burst into laughter behind her.  
« I' really sorry for making you feel bad yesterdays and … I'll try not to do it again. Can't promise though but I'll try and if ever ... »  
« Please Dick... stop talking ! »  
« Yeah... right ... »  
Barbara smiles and kisses him on the cheek. « It's okay. Thank you for apologizing... It actually means a lot. »  
He seems unsteady, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, running a hand through his hair. « Bruce told me about tonight … »  
« That's no longer your business. » She says frowning.  
« I know. I won't bother you but … Just … Take care of yourself okay ? All of you. »  
Barbara nods. She leans on the door, flowers in hand a moment after he's gone.  
« That makes one who won't get punched tonight. » She says to Selina. « now, where were we ? »

##  
None of them remembers what it's like to have a normal evening.  
Diner is fine. Damian tries to kill Tim only two times and Dick does only five bad jokes before a very pissed off looking Clark knocks on the door.  
« I hate being a journalist sometimes. Is there some cake left ? »  
Alfred materializes next to him with a plate of cake and a spoon.  
« Brace yourself for what's to come. » Tim says.  
« Poor choice of words again Drake ! »  
« What is … Happening tomorrow ? »  
« Tonight actually. » Bruce says scrapping his plate of his last bite of cake. « Let's say that women take back the streets tonight and I'm not happy about it. »  
« Why is that ? »  
Bruce shots him a death glare. « Because some of them don't have our policy about not killing. » Then softer. « And Because I'm scared for them. »  
« You're always scared for someone. »  
« Superdad has a point here ! » Dick pipes. A collective grumble of disapproval fills the room and he grins. « Oh come on, you're practically married at this point, Clark hasn't slept in the spare bedroom in weeks ! »  
« Hasn't slept at all some nights. » Tim adds.  
« Is it possible to die from embarrassment ? » Clark asks, not sure if he wants to laugh or fly back to Metropolis.  
« Bruce didn't die when he tried to give me the talk about sex. So I'd say you're safe. »  
Tim giggles at that and Damian rolls his eyes so hard Clark can swear he heard them move. Bruce is hiding his face in his hands.  
« what did I do to deserve this ? »  
« You adopted us. » Tim says.  
Bruce growls.  
« Damian is smarter. » Dick adds. « He only adopts non talking animals. »  
« And I'm fine with that ! » The younger says. « As I will be fine if we never talk about my father's sex life again. »  
« Wait until he gives you the talk ! »  
« My mother took care of that years ago. »  
« You're kidding me ? Tell me you're kidding me ! » Dick seems shocked.  
Damian grins viciously. « Need a recap Grayson ? I might teach you a trick or two... »  
« That's enough ! » Bruce interrupts. «no one gives anyone any talk about anything ... Oh dammit I need a drink or seventeen. » His head is back in his hands, nursing another headache and weird images of Talia talking to a way too young Damian about sex. God knows what she taught him.  
For once it's Jason that saves the situation, barging in the kitchen with bags of ice cream and a list of «  safe » movies he found on Netflix for them to watch because this is supposed to be what normal family does on a Friday night.  
Bruce hopes the plan includes him falling asleep five minutes into the first movie.  
Jason's selection includes a bunch of zombie movies that make Damian bitch that this is not how zombies are actually created.  
« Please someone throw the cat on him ! » Tim begs from the other side of the couch.  
« You touch my cat and I'll cut your hand ! »  
This is probably not the best time for Clark to grab his hand and make a move toward the stairs as it attracts Jason and Dick's attention on them. They head up to Bruce room under cheers and snarky remarks that doesn't vanish after they close the door. At least not for Clark who manages to grin and blushes at the same time.  
« They'll be fine as long as the cat remains faithful toward Damian. »  
Bruce smiles at that. « Do't tell him but when he's away, the cat sleeps with me. »  
« I know. It tried to kill me one time. Might have sat on him to be honest. »  
« So your super vision is useless ? »  
« I try not to use it here. »  
Bruce did not know that. It tells a lot about their relationship that he never noticed Clark toning down his powers next to him. He wonders what it's like. Wonders what Clark feels when he steps closer to him to kiss him. Does it feel as strange as it is for him ? Does it feel good ? Does it make his heart flutter, twitch just a little like his ?  
« Keep an hear out for them... Barbara and ... »  
« I will. » Clark says softly wrapping his arms around Bruce. « I always do. »  
« Don't let me check on them. They would not want me to. » His head hurt, his chest is constricted, his guts twisted. Everything in him wants to put on the cowl and go fight with them even if he understands that this is not his fight. « Make me forget. »  
Sex between them is always a strange thing because they don't experience it the same way.  
Bruce once explained every chemical reaction happening in a human body when having sex. How the temperature and the pulse rises, how the hormones get produced, affects the mood, the senses. It's mechanical, like a notice on how to make someone feel good. It's easy, straightforward and mostly a tool to relax and a partial mean of communication with a significant other.  
Not that Clark thinks that Bruce Wayne has any lesson to give to anyone about communication. As true as Bruce vision of sex might be, Clark can't understand it. Maybe his kryptonian body doesn't react the same, maybe he's just way too responsive, but he doesn't see things the way Bruce does.  
Trying to understand his point of view is like trying to see the sunset through the sonar of a bat. He simply can't.  
But he can use everything he learned about Bruce to pleasure him. It's easy. It's a mean to an end.  
Pushing him to the bed, slowly undressing him because even Bruce's casual clothes cost more than a rant in Metropolis. Kissing him with every breath he takes, caressing every inch of naked skin. It's not even remotely close to what Clark wants, not for now, but they'll get to it.  
Make me forget he said and Clark intends just to do that.  
He knows what buttons to push and when, knows how to depict Bruce's moans and whisper. He can feel his body slowly relax, his mind hasn't given up yet. He's still tense, still fighting against the urge to go check on his friends and family. That's when Clark puts a hand on Bruce slack and he moans , closing his eyes as Clark works him toward his first orgasm.  
He wipes his hand on the discarded shirt of his partner, not caring anymore how expensive it might be and grins at Bruce, sitting on his hips.  
« Better ? »  
« Slightly. »  
Bruce sits down, pulling Clark closer to him, biting at his neck, hands gripping his tights and lower back.  
« You know you can't break my skin right ? »  
Bruce groans. «Never stopped me before. » and Clark laughs, runs his hands through his lover's hair, and tones down his power a little more. It's a balance to find, it's one of the reason why they are never on the same page when it comes to intimacy. They can't be.  
They need to be in the right space. For Bruce it's a headspace that's hard to reach. A point where he no longer feels responsible for everything, a point where he lets himself forget and give in to physical pleasure. He' so used to pain that every slight touch feels like warm electricity bubbling on him. It's a foreign sensation, long gone behind layers of soreness and ache. And it comes back at him stronger every time Clark touches him like every soft caress is ten times more intense than everything he ever felt. It just takes him time to make his damn mind shut up.  
Clark is always in the right mindset. It was not easy to learn how to let go of his own guilt and shame and responsibilities. It was hard to learn that he can't fix everything, but it's the most important lesson life ever taught him. He knows, deep down, that his faith and his love cannot be beaten. That's why he kisses like nothing else matters, because in this moment, it's true.  
But his body doesn't react the same way. Skin too hard, muscles too tense. Being unbreakable means nothing gets to him and he can barely feel Bruce's hands on his back unless he tones his powers down. But he also wants them to be full on because he wants to hear everything, every heartbeat, every breath, every rustle of the sheet, every little noise and never forget them. He wants to see everything with crude accuracy. Every scar on Bruce's torso, how kisses rise goosebumps on his arms, how his legs tremble as he pushes Clark down on the bed to reverse their position And most of all, he wants all his senses to discern the shift in Bruce.  
But he tones them down anyway, just so he can feel the warmth of Bruce skin against his own, the press of his tights between his legs, his nails digging on his scalp.  
« One day, I'll put blue Kryptonite on you. » Bruce says, his voice raspy, as he kisses a path down Clark's torso. « Make you powerless so you can really let go. »  
« Still afraid I might burn you with my eyes ? »  
« No. I trust you. »  
That's as close as « I love you » as Bruce can get and Clark knows it.  
« I just want you to be able to do something without holding back for once. »  
Clark could say that he's wrong, that he loves without holding back, that he can let his feelings overflow him when they're together, that, he can let go of. But he kisses him instead spread his lover's tight further apart, grabs his ass and that might be one of the best feeling in the world, having Bruce Wayne riding him.  
It takes control to let himself feel it, and even more not to let the pleasure overpowering him and he throws an arm over his eyes, afraid he might really hurt Bruce with his eyes. Bruce leans toward him, whispers softly in his hear.  
« Imagine what it would feel, not to have to hold back. » ow Bruce is moving slowly on top of him and Clark doesn't really want to imagine anything because he has a pretty clear picture in his mind and if he bets any hotter, he's gonna put the bed on fire. It's already like Bruce hand in his wants to leave an imprint. « I would leave a mark on you. » Bruce says against his neck. « I want to see my nail marks on your back. » And damn Clark wants it too, just the though makes him jerk inside Bruce. There's a small gasp from his lover but before Clark can apologize, Bruce grips his arm, takes it away from his eyes. « Do it again. »  
Clark's smile should be illegal and Bruce can't look away from it, not even for a kiss. He wants to remember it. He wants every feature detailed in his personal spankbank, how Clark seems both proud and sure of himself as he undulates his hips under him.how he licks his lips when Bruce moans again and again and how he grips his hair, yank him towards him to kiss him hungrily, pressing a hand on the back of Bruce's back to keep him closer.  
And Bruce doesn't try to have control anymore, just gives in into pleasure, kisses, bites, claws at Clark's shoulder, his tights, his face moaning between thrusts and breath some nonsense some «  Again » and « Harder » and probably an I love you but this one might be his clouded mind yelling loud enough to cover his own words. Or maybe Clark said it before coming. He doesn't know and he doesn't care.  
He comes too and collapses on top of his lover, breathing heavily in the crook of his neck.  
They lay on their side, close enough for their chest to touch, they breath each other air, kissing slowly now, tired, not as hungry for each other as they were moments ago.  
It's like Clark can't have enough of Bruce, not only his body, but the tiny flicker of light he sees in moments like that. It's covered in brooding and nightmares that never really go away. But there is something, when Bruce is at ease, secured, loved, that matches Clark's soul perfectly and if he was a god, he would make that little flame grow harder that the hottest fire. Harder than the sun.  
« What makes you smile ? » Bruce asks. His eyes are heavy already, his breathing slower, his pulse still erratic.  
« It's like the sun. » Clark says.  
Bruce raises an eyebrow, perplex.  
« When you kiss me. It feels like there's a sun inside me. »  
« So, I give you the butterflies ? » Bruce mocks.  
« No. More. » Clark says. « Much, much more. »  
Bruce falls asleep, his breathing synchronized with Clark, his hands still hot on his skin, his lips still close to his heart.  
It's not easy, being Clark Kent, Superman, Batman, Bruce Wayne. None of their identities are safe, none of them can understand each other.  
But there is a middle ground they can both reach.  
A bat cannot describe the sunset from a human perspective. And a human cannot see the sunset through an echo. But they can agree that they think it's beautiful and warm.  
So Clark wraps himself around Bruce, listen to the quiet sound of the manor then the city falling asleep.  
No one got hurt tonight and he falls asleep before he realizes that he forgot about listening anything except Bruce. He's the one that forgot and he doesn't feel sorry about it.  
No one got hurt tonight. No one they care about at least.


End file.
